


If I Die, Don't Wake Me

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autistic Jack, F/F, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Photographer Jack, Teacher Jack, YouTube star Bitty, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 22:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Eric Bittle catches a stranger taking a photo of him through the cafe window, he doesn’t think much of it.  After his youtube went viral, he’s used to things like that.  But there’s something about this tall, dark, and handsome stranger he kind of wants to get to know.





	If I Die, Don't Wake Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ticktockclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/gifts).



> Written for ticktockclockwork on this the day of her birth. I hope you have an amazing one, love <3

You were out of my league  
All the things I believe  
You were just the right kind  
Yeah, you are more than just a dream  
You were out of my league  
Got my heartbeat racing  
If I die don't wake me  
'Cause you are more than just a dream

Fitz and the Tantrums-

***

The problem with gaining a little fame was that Eric Bittle didn’t notice things like people with cameras near him all the time. He was used to it—people surreptitiously trying to grab a shot of him stuffing his sandwich into his mouth before dashing off to a meeting or recording. The occasional bored pap trying to get something juicy—and walking away disappointed with yet another shot of Bitty holding an iced pumpkin spice latte which his favourite café carried year round since moving to the quaint neighbourhood in Providence. Sometimes it was blatant tourists who weren’t entirely sure _who_ he was, but their youtube obsessed children were excited and pointing, so they thought they’d grab the shot just in case.

He could only imagine their disappointment when the realised he was just some guy who talked about baking and figure skating a lot.

It got a little worse after Bitty’s memoir came out—he was one of the few very openly gay figure skaters in the biz willing to talk frankly about what it was like. People were more surprised than anything to learn about the external and internal homophobia of skating culture, and how most of the men—whether they were straight or not—had to over-compensate in the face of so many who used sexuality against them.

Lately he’d been hearing talks from his agent about a possible movie—which he thought was a little bit over-kill. The book brought more traffic to his channel, which was earning him decent income now, but he wasn’t _so_ famous that he couldn’t pop into Annie’s for a coffee, then sit in the park unbothered as he brainstormed his next segment. He wanted to keep it that way, really. He had wanted a liveable income doing what he loved—especially now that his ankle surgery had ended his skating career and coaching was fun, but _not_ what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

He hadn’t signed off on anything, thank god, and presently he was sat with Jess and Larissa who’d just got done finishing with the lunch rush, squashed together in one of the bigger arm chairs as Bitty sipped his coffee. His eyes were fixed out the window where there was a man across the street with a DSLR and a massive attached lens crouched down taking pictures of what looked like a long string of fuzzy baby geese. Bitty knew about the geese, because Larissa had been cooing over them and feeding them seeds and grapes for the last week.

But Bitty had sworn, just for a second, the man had taken a shot of him through the window. That was probably the arrogance talking, though. He shook his head, then looked back at the couple, who were staring right back at him.

“You know who that is?” he asked.

Larissa glanced out the glass, then shrugged. “New guy.”

“Helpful,” Bitty said dryly. “He lives round here?”

“Yeah. Just moved into those condos that finished construction last month. He came in for a green tea yesterday.” She pushed up and away from Jess, stretching her back a little. “Seemed nice enough.”

Bitty licked his lips and allowed himself to stare a little more. The guy was fit, if he did say so himself. Absolutely his type. Tall, broad, thick waist, big thighs, dark hair. The guy’s eyes were blocked by dark shades, but his thick brows were dipped behind them in a frown, and his mouth was turned down at the corners. He was either very angry at the small geese, or just one of those people with one of those faces.

“Hot, though.”

Bitty looked up at Jess who was grinning at him widely, glancing at him over the tops of her glasses frames which had fallen low on her nose. “Oh stop it. I’m not…”

“You so are, don’t even try to deny it.” Jess pushed past Larissa, ducking behind the counter, then returned with a small mini apple pie. “Here. Your recipe so you can even tell him it’s from you.”

“Oh my god,” Bitty gasped, pushing her hand away which was waving the pie in his face. “I’m not gonna go over and give some strange man _pie_.”

“Tell him it’s a Providence custom. You’re so thirsty even _my_ throat is dry, Bits.” Jess waved the pie again, so Bitty snatched it out of the air and took a huge bite.

“Do not sass me today,” he said through crumbs. “I don’t have time for this. I’m gonna be writing and filming all night.”

Jess sighed and sunk back into the seat, giving a defeated look to her girlfriend. “Your loss. But don’t say I didn’t try.”

*** 

Two days went by before Bitty saw the stranger with the camera again. This time it was on his morning run. The guy was outside with his cell phone, pointed at a small flock of geese at the bank of the little lake where Bitty liked to run. He was crouched slightly, trying to get on the goose’s level, ignoring the warning hisses. Bitty had music blasting, but from the way the guy’s mouth and throat were working, it looked like he was making little noises at the goose, and Bitty couldn’t help it.

He slowed his pace and watched.

It was possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

Then, just as he was about to pick up his pace again, the guy turned and saw him. In almost slow-motion, the stranger lifted the camera, and snapped a photo. Bitty felt his cheeks burn, and in a moment which should have been creepy or invasive, felt intensely personal and sweet. The guy tipped him a wave with the hand holding the cup, and Bitty gave him a mock salute before hitting the pavement harder, and taking the run a little faster than he did most days.

*** 

“Guess what?” Jess’ sing-song voice interrupted Bitty’s train of thought, and he glanced up at his email to see her shining smile, eyes crinkled behind her glasses.

Bitty pulled the pencil from behind his ear, marked a spot in the margin of his book, then closed it and pushed his laptop on the table next to it. “Yes, darlin’?”

“Your lover-boy is here.” Jess bat her eyelashes, then jutted her chin at the queue near the front counter where, sure enough, Lardo was taking the order of the camera guy.

“Oh my god,” Bitty hissed.

Lardo caught his eye, grinned, then said, “There’s a chair free over there by the window. That’s Bitty, by the way. He won’t mind the company.”

Bitty felt his face flush a violent red, and he wished he was still holding his book only so he could bury his face in it. Unfortunately his hands were free, and fluttering for something to do. He tried not to meet the fierce blue gaze of the stranger, but couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

Maybe the guy was like…a vampire or something.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of that thought as the guy shrugged, and made his way over. Jess hopped up just as he reached the empty chair and said, “I’ll bring your drink when it’s done,” and then hurried off.

Bitty desperately wished he had some type of superhero power, because he’d definitely be making his so-called friends pay right about now. Luckily he was still chock-full of southern politeness, and he cleared his throat as he said, “Hey there.”

The guy watched him a moment, almost hesitant, then said, “Hey.”

Well. It wasn’t much to go on but… “I’m Eric, by the way, but everyone calls me Bitty which is um…well that’s why…”

“Jack,” the guy said, and it took Bitty a full second to realise he was giving his own name.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack. I hear you’re new round these parts.”

Jack blinked at him, the tiniest bit of pink colouring the tops of his cheekbones. “Euh. Yes. I mean…I just got a job at the University.”

“Oh,” Bitty said brightly, smiling which he noticed made Jack’s cheeks pink a little more. “That’s…congratulations, Jack. Are you…will you be teaching or…?”

“History,” Jack said, smiling down at his hands. “And um…photography. I was teaching at a high school in Montreal before this, but they offered me the job and it was…a good time to take it.” There was a weight to his words that Bitty could hear, like there was more to the story, but he was polite enough not to push it. “What do you do?”

For a second, that startled Bitty. Enough he didn’t say anything until Jess had dropped off Jack’s drink, and a refill for himself. She winked before wandering off, then Bitty cleared his throat as he cupped the warm tea between his hands. “You really don’t now?”

Jack looked surprised at Bitty’s question. “I…should I?” he wondered, with such honesty it almost hurt.

Bitty couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said at the distressed look on Jack’s face. “I’m sorry, really. Just…if you don’t know me, why were you taking my picture through the window the other day?”

Jack full-on blushed at that, glancing at his drink as he took a breath. “I’m sorry. That was invasive.”

“No I…I didn’t really mind,” Bitty said, leaning toward Jack a little. “Really. I just…I mean…why take my photo then? If you’re not a fan?”

Jack’s gaze snapped up and Bitty could see him quickly mouth ‘fan’ before he cleared his throat. “I thought you were very beautiful.” There was that sharp, almost apologetic honesty again, and Jack tapped his fingers against the rim of his mug. “I like to take photos of beautiful things.”

“Oh,” Bitty said, Jack’s words leaving him a little breathless. “I…that’s…” He cleared his throat. “Gosh, I don’t think anyone’s said that to me in…maybe ever?”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ever?”

Bitty shrugged. “Not really, not like they mean it. I’m um…I have some fans, from some videos I do online? Youtube? And uh well…you know they say I’m attractive and what not, but they never really cared until I got famous. Lordy, not that I’m actually _famous_ or anything you know…” He was now blushing a shade of pink even deeper than Jack’s had been. “But yeah you know it’s like…I think they just want to flatter me so I’ll give them attention or something.”

“Oh.” Jack breathed out a small laugh. “I think I get what you mean. I’m sorry though. Are you disappointed I didn’t recognise you?”

Bitty couldn’t help his own laugh, shaking his head as he lifted the mug to his lips and took a long drink. It was hot enough to burn, but not scald, and he sighed. “Not at all, Jack. It was pretty refreshing. And yeah…definitely flattering.”

*** 

Bitty thought about Jack on and off for the rest of the week, but he was swamped with work, and his brief stops into the café didn’t coincide with whenever Jack was there—if he was there at all. Even Bitty’s morning runs were depressingly absent of adorable French Canadian men taking candid photos of geese by the bank of the pond.

It wasn’t until Bitty was running late, hustling out of his building with a large bakery box full of mini pies that he saw him again. And by saw, he meant literally tumbled directly into him from his stoop. It was by Jack’s quick reflexes, and his massively large arms, that Bitty didn’t go tumbling into the street and ruin his hard work he’d spent half his night creating for his production team.

“Oh my lord,” Bitty gasped, balancing the box on one arm, pushing his hair away from his forehead. He glanced up at Jack who was looking down, a little sheepish—blushing, but grinning. “Oh Jack. Thank god for you. That could have been so ugly!”

Jack chuckled, then made sure Bitty was steady on his feet before slowly removing his hands. Bitty felt the loss keenly, but bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything. “Might wanna keep your head up, eh?”

“Oh…oh hush, you,” Bitty said, kicking at his shin. After a second, he turned to the railing, propped the box there, and lifted the lid. The pies were fine, so he gingerly lifted one from the wrapping and handed it out. “It’s gluten, and there’s sugar so if you have any health issues…”

“Uh,” Jack said, “no but…”

“I made them, and you just saved my life—or at least my pies which are on their way to a massive meeting right now so…honestly. It’s the least I can do, and I swear they’re gonna be the best pies you’ve ever tasted.”

“You swear, eh?” Jack asked as he palmed the baked sweet. “What if I _don’t_ think they’re the best pies I’ve ever eaten?”

Bitty flushed. “That’s just blasphemy, sir. But in that case you’ll just have to come over and I’ll make another batch to prove it. Because my recipes _are_.”

Jack cocked his head to the side and stared at him just as Bitty put the lid back on the box. “And if that’s incentive to lie…?”

“Now you’re just tryin’a get me riled up, and right before my meeting,” Bitty said, trying to hide his grin.

Jack took a step back, then slowly raised his phone. Bitty startled a minute, then decided to go with it and struck a pose with his hip cocked out, and the pie box balanced on his shoulder like a server’s tray. Jack chuckled, snapping a few photos, then put the phone away. “I should let you go.”

“Yeah,” Bitty said. “Um. I’ll be at the café later though. Uh…if you wanted to say hi?”

“My last class is done at six,” Jack said, then bit his lip. “Is that too late for coffee?”

“Goodness,” Bitty said with a laugh. “It’s never too late for coffee. Anyway, you git, or I’m really gonna be in trouble.” He started to hurry off, but turned at the last minute and called out, “See you later?” Then nearly ran into a pole.

Jack stared, wide-eyed, then laughed. “Seriously, Bittle. Head _up_.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Jack?” Bitty said, then rushed off to his meeting with his cheeks flushed pink, and his heart racing.

*** 

The way Bitty attempted to escape his meeting, his small team seemed to catch on pretty quick and let him leave, but in a barrage of chirps about a potential date. He gave them exactly no deets, but the smile on his face was probably enough.

When he got to the café, there was no sign of Jack—though it had just gone six so that wasn’t alarming. Lardo and Ford had gone for the night, but Nursey was behind the counter, scowling at his text book. He looked up when Bitty entered, then jutted his chin at Bitty’s usual seat, and began to work on his latte.

With a sigh, Bitty sank into his chair, pulled up his phone, and waited.

And waited.

Half six came and went, and he started to feel antsy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he and Jack had at least exchanged numbers, but since they hadn’t, he was force to wait. The caffeine wasn’t doing his anxiety any favours, and things started to play out in his head.

Maybe the pie really _was_ that bad. Maybe there was a secret ingredient and Jack was now in hospital battling anaphylactic shock. Maybe Jack was just being polite and was now ghosting him. Maybe he’d been hit by a bus on his walk over. Maybe he was kidnapped and…

The door chimed, and Bitty nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound. He couldn’t play that off as cool, so he gave in and whipped round, his grin almost splitting his face when he saw Jack’s flustered expression, and the vague relief there when his eyes set on Bitty.

He didn’t bother to queue up to the counter, instead crossing the room and flopping down on the sofa next to Bitty’s chair. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “I had…there was a student that…” He stopped, rubbing a hand down his face. He eyed Bitty’s half-gone latte which was now lukewarm, but he dove for it anyway and gulped it down.

Bitty was only a little startled—mostly at the familiarity of the gesture, and the way it warmed him.

Jack swiped his hand across his mouth, pulling a little face. “That’s sweet.”

“Just the way I like it,” Bitty said with a tiny sniff. “You were saying?”

“Student crisis,” Jack said. “One of my students was apparently broken up with during lecture in…well…it was cruel, and she was a mess, so I took her back to my office to have a quick chat which ended up lasting nearly an hour.” Jack checked his watch, then sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I got some work done,” Bitty said, telling a little white lie, but it seemed to make Jack relax so it was worth it. “Do you want to order some coffee or something?”

Jack glanced up at the counter where Nursey was doing a terrible job at pretending like he wasn’t watching. His mouth turned up at the corners, and he shook his head. “No but um…so this is…maybe rude? But I was hoping to ask you for a favour.”

Bitty clasped his hands together, folding them under his chin, and raised his brows. “Go on.”

“I um…” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “So we have like weekly Friday brunches at work where we all bring something. Make it or buy it…whatever. One of my co-workers tried your pie and…”

“And you want me to make up a batch?” Bitty asked.

Jack flushed. “I was hoping you might…teach me? How to make them?”

To stop himself from saying anything potentially disastrously stupid, Bitty bit the inside of his lower lip—hard. Then smiled and nodded. “You know…tomorrow’s Friday.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, a little breathy. “I…hah. That’s kind of why it’s such a huge favour. I know it’s an inconvenience but…”

“Do you have a kitchen that can fit us both?” Bitty asked, interrupting Jack’s flow of words.

Jack’s sleepy eyes widened. “Oh. Well…yes, I think so.”

“Do you have a car that will get us to a decent super market?”

Jack nodded. “Yes?”

Bitty slapped his hands over the tops of his thighs, then pushed up and extended a hand out to lift Jack to his feet. It was all he could do not to lose himself in the feel of Jack’s warm palm against his own. “Then let’s go. Mini pies aren’t all that hard, and you can bake’em up real quick. I promise. You’ll be the hit of Friday morning brunch.”

Jack was flushing as he let Bitty lead him out of the café, and it was only after they got to Jack’s truck that Bitty realised they hadn’t let go of their hands the entire time.

*** 

The level Bitty was keeping it together at the super market should have earnt him at least an academy award, because no one’s acting could have topped his own. Jack’s hand frequently brushed his as they scoured the aisles for ingredients. His brow was adorably furrowed when they came to the vast array of flours, and he listened intently as Bitty explained the differences between cake, self-rising, and all-purpose. Jack selected fresh apples like any mistake might cause a building to explode, and when Bitty made a cursory reach for his wallet, Jack nearly tackled the cashier in an attempt to get his swiped first.

All-in-all it was the strangest maybe—maybe not—first date Bitty had ever had.

And it was also the best.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he got to Jack’s, but he figured at the very least there would be more books and things instead of sparse furniture, and a handful of framed photos on the grey-painted walls.

“Are those yours?” Bitty asked as he set some of the bags down on Jack’s table.

Jack glanced up, then shrugged. “Yes. I wasn’t…um. I wasn’t sure what to put up? I thought maybe it would be narcissistic to display my own work, but my parents thought it was a good idea.”

“Oh honey,” Bitty said, patting his arm as he walked past Jack to tip the bushel of apples into the sink for washing. “You should never hesitate to display your work. I mean, I’m not an expert, trust me. I wouldn’t be able to tell any kinda difference but…lord these are so…” He looked at one which was a lake—vast and wide, the photo’s black and white seeming to capture the reflection of trees on the still water maybe even better than if it had been in colour. “It’s soothing.”

Jack flushed a little, biting at his lower lip as he smiled. “That’s…that was the point. Um. Of that one. I took it after…” He stopped, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Bitty said in a rush. “Lord knows you don’t owe me any backstory.”

Jack rubbed his palms up and down on his jeans for a minute. “No I…I’m not embarrassed or anything. Just…I had a bad break-up, and I didn’t take it well. I should have…I could have done better but I didn’t, and I ended up taking some time for inpatient treatment.”

Bitty gave him a slow, careful look, hoping to convey a sense of not just sympathy, but empathy. Because lord almighty had he been there. “I’ve never um…” He shrugged. “I’ve had therapists. I’ve never checked in anywhere, but there were times that…lordy,” he breathed out, “maybe it would’a done me some good. But growin’ up where I did, you just didn’t talk about those sorts of things. If Jesus, prayers, and Sunday afternoon coffee and cake couldn’t cure you well…”

Jack let out a breathy laugh. “I…yeah. It’s…I mean not for me. It wasn’t like that for me. I’ve been in therapy most of my life. I was diagnosed on the Autism spectrum when I was ten. Do you…know what that is?”

Bitty wanted to laugh, and tease Jack a little about thinking maybe he was born under a rock, but he knew better because Jack was trusting him with this and that…well that was important. “Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

Jack bit back a grin at the term of endearment. “Well before that um…it was different back then, and they just thought maybe I was weird, and maybe I just had some anxiety or something so they gave me these meds, and put me in therapy to try and teach me uh…” Jack shrugged as he began to set out the butter and flour, and the cupcake tins Bitty had said they could use for the pies. “How to be normal,” he finished in a quiet voice.

Bitty swallowed, hating that look on Jack’s face—hating the person who put it there, even if they were probably long gone. “That’s shit.”

That startled a laugh out of Jack. “Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Yeah, it was shit. But it got better um…” He shrugged. “Do you know anything about hockey?”

With a frown, Bitty snorted. “Well honey, that was a weird segue into sports but um…I know some. I figure skated and knew a lot of hockey players growin’ up at the rink. I played a couple months on a community league.”

“Well my dad is Bob Zimmermann,” Jack said, and when Bitty made it obvious he didn’t really know what that meant, he said, “Bad Bob Zimmermann. Closest man to ever breaking my uncle Wayne’s records.”

“Your…uncle Wayne,” Bitty said slowly, starting to catch on.

“Gretzky,” Jack said, rubbing his palms on his jeans again.

“Oh my god,” Bitty breathed.

Jack flushed harder. “Yeah so…he got traded back to Montreal that year, and my mom found me a better therapist, and things got…” He shrugged. “Better? I guess. Then worse, then better again.”

“I like that last part,” Bitty said, and when Jack frowned, he hip-checked him and said, “The better again part. Because um…I’ve really enjoyed knowin’ you, even if you do seem to have an unnatural affinity for taking my photo.”

“Oh.” Jack laughed and shrugged. “You’re my muse.”

Bitty, who was holding three apples between both his hands, fumbled and they fell back into the sink. “Your what?”

“My muse?” Jack said, and he took the apples from Bitty, arranging them neatly on the counter before he pulled out a paring knife. “Sometimes I um…I fixate, especially when it comes to my photography. Not…I don’t mean to be creepy…”

“No I don’t,” Bitty said in a rush. “I don’t think it’s creepy. I just don’t get why it’s me. I mean, I’m so…” He waved his hand up and down his body, and almost laughed at just how _confused_ Jack looked at the statement. “Plain,” he clarified.

Jack’s eyes widened. “No,” he said, a little sharp, then breathed out. “I mean. I mean, no. You’re not…crisse,” he said, and rubbed a hand down his face before grabbing an apple to start peeling. Bitty took that as his cue to start cubing the butter, but apparently Jack wasn’t finished with him just yet. “You’re not plain. Not to me. You’re bright, and you have this smile that can be seen through café windows, and your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and you tilt your head just to the left when you’re interested in what a person is saying. I know that’s…maybe it’s weird? That I paid so close attention but…”

“Jack,” Bitty said, completely breathless and weak in the knees and falling so dang hard he was pretty sure he’d be concussed when he finally hit the ground. “It isn’t weird. It’s intense but…lord I don’t even know what I’m sayin’.”

“Maybe we should finish the pies.” Jack said. “Then we can talk after.”

Bitty nodded, quickly getting to work.

*** 

Although the dough wasn’t really sticky, Jack couldn’t handle the feeling of it under his fingers, so Bitty gave him a bowl of sifted flour to dig his hands through as he waited for the pies to be finished, and Bitty chatted almost non-stop as he rolled out the dough, cut the crusts out, and managed the filling. Jack listened with a soft smile, his fingers gently pushing through the pile of flour, his head tilted to the side, eyes never leaving Bitty.

When they were finally in the oven, the two washed up, then took mugs of tea to the sofa and curled up, knees tucked between them, knocking together. Bitty was halfway through the Jam Feud when Jack suddenly reached out, his fingertips brushing over Bitty’s jaw, effectively silencing the stream of words.

“Sorry,” Bitty said, sounding out of breath. “I can go on and on and…I know it’s nothing interesting.”

“It is. I’m interested in everything you have to say,” Jack confessed, his fingers never leaving Bitty's face.

“Goodness, but do you know how to flatter a man,” Bitty gasped.

Jack quirked a tiny smile. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“Well it’s givin’ me the vapours so…” Bitty couldn’t help a nervous laugh, even as he shifted his feet down, and moved a little closer.

Jack didn’t hesitate to do the same, didn’t take his hands off Bitty. “I’d like to kiss you. I can wait but…”

“No, yeah,” Bitty said, flushing hot from head to toe. “Kissing sounds…I mean. Yes. Yes, let’s do that.”

Jack chuckled, then moved his hand so it was palming Bitty’s entire cheek. It was huge, and he was so lost in the feel of it, he almost didn’t notice Jack moving in until their lips were meeting. It was soft, there was hesitation—everything about it so new, but so sweet, and the imperfection of it all was what made it feel so…perfect.

Bitty didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing, or that he’d closed his eyes until they flew open and he was gasping for air. His hands came up, curling in the front of Jack’s shirt, holding him tight even as he moved back.

“That was…wow,” he murmured.

Jack nodded, nuzzling his nose against Bitty’s. “Yes. It was very wow.”

Bitty snorted. “Chirp chirp, Jack Zimmermann. Is this what I have to look forward to? Datin’ a guy like you?”

Just then, the oven timer dinged, and Jack smiled, going in for one more quick kiss. “I’m afraid so. Think you can handle it?” He pecked Bitty on the nose before pushing up, winking, and heading to the kitchen to take the pies out of the oven.

Heart hammering against his chest, Bitty pressed his hand over it and muttered, “Lord, this boy,” and he knew right then, this was it.


End file.
